On Traffic, Sign Language and Douchebag Drivers.

I’m generally a polite person in traffic. I don’t mind giving gaps. I try not to get too mad when taxis cut in front of me. I try not to run red robots and I generally stop at stop streets and obey the speed limits (inasmuch as I know where the speed cameras are) where possible. I know how to use traffic circles and I always keep left and I never pass right. I understand the rules of the road and the purpose they serve. Safety. Mine and the safety of others around me and our respective motor vehicles. It’s not complicated.

I’m also reasonably fastidious about keeping a safe following distance between myself and the car in front of me. Space for a car-and-a-half. Less than the legally suggested distance, but it’s better than nothing. It makes sense to do so. But the rest of South Africa in their cars thinks that my safe following distance is a motherfucking invitation to PLEASE CUT IN FRONT OF ME NOW. I’ve conducted a little experiment in this regard. On the way home from work one day, I left enough space for two cars in front of me and counted as people pulled in front of me. In a 15km, 35minute drive – EIGHTEEN people pulled in front of me. I wasn’t driving slowly – I just merely had space in front of me. Of those 18, 3 of them thanked me and 1 of them even used their indicators.

Like I said. I try not to get too mad about people cutting in front of me in traffic. We’ve all done it at some point – when we needed to get somewhere in a hurry. When you’re in a rush, it feels like everyone else in the world is suddenly driving like snails on freshly-laid tar. I get that. But it’s one thing over-taking someone when the road ahead of them is clear and it’s a whole other kettle of stinking-mother-fucking-fish to cut in front of them from the left, going around a slight downhill corner, at the bottom of which is ALWAYS traffic that requires room to brake.